


He Dreamt of Paradise

by Mpatrici



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Careers (Hunger Games), M/M, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mpatrici/pseuds/Mpatrici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is reaped for the 16th annual Hunger Games and along the way he meets an array of characters, both friendly and deadly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I wrote back in 2012, I tried to edit it as much as I could :/ I'm gonna post the first 3 chapters and if I get enough positive feedback I'll post the remaining 3 and write 6 more. Also this isn't going to get too smutty(because I want to be as close to original Hunger Games as possible) but there are some cute moments with Stiles and Scott/Derek/Lydia

I’m startled awake by my father barking orders at the peacekeepers who had just arrived a couple hours ago, from the Capitol, no less. Why do they send so many of them, I wondered but I quickly change my thoughts, This day was like every other ordinary day in District Twelve. But I know deep down that this day is like no other, it will begin with a huge ceremony, a ceremony that would forever impact the lives of two families in our District. There’s also tense yet calm atmosphere that lingers in the air, almost as if it were announcing an omen of bad news. I glance towards the window, the sky looks cloudy, and I’m willing to bet that the temperature is around the mid 60s. It’s the perfect day for a reaping.

I get out of bed, take a nice hot shower, and dress myself in the plain clothes that were specifically picked for the occasion. I don’t understand why we’re forced to wear these clothes, we’re being broadcasted on national television for fuck’s sakes, we should be able to dress in our best clothes. I don’t bother with my appearance too much; after all, the chances of me getting reaped were slim. If I were a Seam kid, however, I’d be pretty worried about how I would look, considering that the competition and sponsors see the broadcasts. I don’t bother with breakfast either, I knew that if by some bizarre chance I was picked, I would get fed with luxurious food items that I can’t even begin to pronounce.

I close the door behind me without saying goodbye to my father. I’ll have plenty of time to interact with him once this stupid ceremony is over. I make my way over to my best friend Scott’s house. In the last four years before each reaping, I would head on over to his house and just hang out until we were herded into the reaping. That way, if one of our names were drawn, we would at least be comforted in knowing that we spent our last moments in district twelve with our best friend. And though neither Scott nor I would ever admit it in 1000 years, it gave us comfort and reassurance, thereby making the last four reapings less stressful and scary.

Scott and I live in separate neighborhoods; I live near the town square with my father, the mayor of District Twelve, in a cozy two-story house. Scott, on the other hand, lives in the poor area of the district known as The Seam, where most of the coal miners resided and where Scott would ultimately work. He lived with his mother, who was known as the healer, a cheaper alternative to the poorer population who could never afford a doctor, and was located at a much closer proximity in case of emergencies. Before the creation of the districts, Mrs. McCall was a little girl and had dreamt of being a nurse or doctor, now after all the bloodshed and trauma, her dream had (somewhat) been realized. His father was a closed subject, Scott never brought him up, ever. Since District Twelve is small and we’re not allowed to move into other Districts, it would be safe to assume that Scott’s father is dead and that he either died from some bizarre disease or accident, or that he was reaped when he was 17 or 18 and got killed in the first reaping ever, but that’s my over reactive imagination talking. If that had been the case, Scott would have told me years ago without me inquiring about it. Maybe one day when we’re old and Scott’s feeling reminiscent, he’ll tell me. 

People always wondered how me, one of the more wealthier kids in the district would associate, much less be friends with Scott McCall, a dirty kid from the Seam, and the story’s not as complicated or bizarre as people make it out to be. At school I loathed the merchant kids and considered myself a loner, so I pretty much ate lunch and hung by myself. One day when I was about 8 years old, I saw another boy, dark hair, olive skin, the typical Seam look. He was sitting in my regular seat, the one that had the giant ‘S’ scratched into the wood that stood for Stiles. I marched over to him and declared “hi, do you see this ‘S’, what do you think it stands for?”

He looked up from his meager meal and I was surprised that instead of having the standard gray eyes, he had a set of really brown eyes. “No”.

“Well”, I sassed, “only people whose names begin with ‘s’ can sit there. Like Stiles”. I crossed my arms and gave him a smug smile.

His big brown eyes lit up and he gave me a cheeky grin “Oh really? Then I guess this chair was meant to be mine because my name is Scott!”  
“Yeah so get a move-o, what?”

“Take a seat man, let’s get to know each other”, he exclaimed, still not aware that he had taken my seat  
Not knowing what to do, I ended up taking the seat in front of him and sparked a conversation. He had told me that he was used to sitting outside or going home for lunch but on that particular day it had been raining so he decided to go inside. We became inseparable after that day and we took to sitting in those same seats for the rest of the school year, with Scott insisting that the ‘S’ seat was his. We did everything together such as going to the reapings when we turned twelve, and took all the same classes. Many people were under the assumption that Scott wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box due to his home situation but he was actually a very clever guy and was smarter than some of the merchant kids. He was not only a best friend but a brother to me.

I approach Scott’s shack of a house and I see him waiting for me outside. “Hey Stiles! Happy Hunger Games!”

“And may the odds be ever in your favour, yeah yeah” I mutter.

“Aww what’s the matter big guy, scared that your name’s gonna get picked, when it’s in there like what, four times?”. He was poking fun of how I have the privilege of not signing up for the tesserae while he, along with other seam kids must do it in order to survive.

“Scott please don’t make me feel more guilty than I already am, your name wouldn’t be in there so many times if you would accept my help.”

“No, we both know that it would get our families in trouble, especially yours. My mother and I manage”. He grins. “Must be nice walking up to the reaping without the fear of getting shipped to the Capitol”. He doesn’t show it, but he’s just as scared as I am, even more.

“Yeah, one of the good perks of being the mayor’s son” I retort. “too bad I have to worry about losing my best friend”.

Our conversation is interrupted by the familiar siren signaling us to report to the square for the reaping. Without uttering a single word, we both make our way towards our potential doom. The walk of silence doesn’t last long thanks to me “just imagine, we only have to do this two more times after today”

“That’s only if we don’t get picked today” Scott quavered. Why was he so pessimistic, usually he seemed optimistic about situations and never showed fear since he knew that these things were broadcasted. 

Once we’re in and all the standard crap is taken care of such as the presenter, with her ridiculous Capitol ensemble announcing “Happy 16 Annual Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!” the anthem playing, and having to watch the same stupid video of some stupid Capitol propaganda, the real fun begins. She walks over towards the bowl that contains the names of all the girls in our district. I watch her dramatically pull out a slip of paper and unfold it.

“Allison Argent”

Oh no, it can’t be her! Scott had a crush on her and she was beginning to show interest. I turn to Scott who is staring at the ground trying to compose himself. I then turn to watch the dark haired girl make her way timidly up the stage. She looks shocked but she knows she’s not allowed to show weakness, it would only make her look like an easy target. No one volunteers to take her place, which isn’t surprising. We aren’t Districts 1, 2, or 4 where getting reaped is an honor and not a death sentence. No one has ever volunteered for district 12 and no one ever will. In the last four reapings, I’ve seen brothers and sisters refuse to volunteer to save their younger siblings, family loyalty, any loyalty for that matter, only went so far on reaping day. The thought of loyalties makes me wonder if I would volunteer to save Scott’s life or if he would do the same for me, but I somehow knew the answer to that question

It was those thoughts that made me zone out and miss the 2nd drawing until I heard the end of my last name and felt every single pair of eyes on me. 

I’m the male tribute for district twelve.


	2. Chapter 2

I feel Scott’s hands on my arms, trying to stop me from walking onto the stage, but I pry them off. I block out his cries, I block out everything, the only thing that I focus on is the stage. I shake hands with Allison, praying that she doesn’t remember me from school, but her eyes tell me otherwise. She knows who I am and she doesn’t seem happy about it either.   
As a standard protocol, I am given 3 minutes with my loved ones. My dad comes in first, he doesn’t say much, he just hugs me and mentions something about regretting not giving me combat lessons.

“I never told you this because I never thought this would happen. When the Hunger Games started you were a newborn baby, your mother and I decided that if you were ever reaped, you wouldn’t be by yourself in that arena.”

“Dad, what are you talking about, you can’t come with me.”

“What I mean is that we created a separate account where we would deposit money from time to time, so in case that if you ever got reaped, there would be money to buy you gifts to insure your survival. I’m not sure how much is in there, probably enough to keep Scott alive for 3 lifetimes.”

“Dad, listen to me. I want you to only use half of it. Only half. And make sure it’s when I really need it…the rest I want it to go to Scott. If he gets reaped in the next 2 years I want him to have something too, and if he doesn’t, well I still don’t want him to spend his entire life working in those mines.  
“Stiles I-“

“Dad, please promise me this. There is no guarantee that I will be back from the games but I at least want the guarantee that my best friend will have the same amount of money as I did if he’s ever in my position.”

“Alright, son I promise”

“I love you so much, I’m sorry I don’t say it often and I’m sorry I wasn’t with you this morning.”

The door open and the peacekeeper pulled my dad away from me and shut the door. He was then replaced by Scott, who immediately threw his arms around me, it felt great having Scott’s powerful arms around me and I didn’t want him to let go. He pulled away finally, and with tears in his eyes he cupped my face and kissed me right on the mouth. Confused, but liking the way his lips felt on mine, I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around the back of his head. He pulled away with half a smile “You enjoyed that?”

“I guess I did. I’m not sure why you waited until my inevitable death to do this. We could have spent hours in my room making out. Wait, but you like Allison, are you going to visit her next? Are you going to do the same thing with her?”

“Stiles, I like Allison, but I love you. I always have. I kissed you because I might never have another chance.”

“But what does this mean for us?”

Scott smiled, “win the games and we’ll find out.” He pulled me in for another quick kiss before the peacekeeper dragged him out of the room and quite possibly my life.   
***  
The last couple of hours have been a complete blur. All twelve reapings would be televised later tonight and tributes could easily deduce who were the easy pickings. At this moment I’m gonna have to keep my eyes open and put on this false bravado if I want to go back to District Twelve.  
My escort, who told me her name earlier, but can’t remember it at this time, interrupts my thoughts. “Why hello there, uhhh mind saying your first name for me again?”  
“You can just call me Stiles, in fact, is there a way for my name to appear as Stiles throughout the entire game?”

“I’m not sure if that’s allowed but I’ll certainly ask, do you not like your first name, it’s quite a mouthful if I do say so myself”, she giggled. 

“I’m sure once the gamekeepers and capitol see my name, they’ll immediately create a new rule that says I can”

“Right, well come, come my dear child, let’s go meet Allison. Now, currently you have no mentor because no one from your district has won any games but that’s the case for most districts, the games are still fairly new. I’m sure that by the time we’re at the 25th game, all tributes will have mentors, just in time for the Quarter Quell. But what am I saying, let’s get a move on now”.

“One more thing, do you mind telling me your name again?”

“Sure lovely, my name’s Gloria, now let’s not keep Allison waiting!”

Her accent was really annoying, but she was really nice and she seemed to like her job, even though her job description entailed of leading teenagers to their imminent deaths. She leads me into a room full of decadent foods and drinks, on the far end of the room, I spot Allison, eating some kind of soup. She doesn’t look up from her bowl, and she doesn’t seem to want to talk but I must try to get some words out of her, maybe she’ll tell me her weakness and I can exploit her to the careers.   
“Uh hi Al-Allison, I’m Stiles”

She still doesn’t look up from her bowl but she answers “Hi Stiles”

“So uh, what’s your plan on this, I mean I know we’re not allies or anything, and I’m not asking you to be allies, wait don’t take it personally like you might think that I don’t want to be allies with you because you’re a girl because that’s not the case at all, girls win all the time, but-“

“Stiles I know what you’re saying, and to be honest I don’t know what my plan is.” She looks up from her bowl and I’m surprised to see these beautiful light brown eyes staring back at me, they’re almost like Scott’s but prettier, no I take it back, Scott’s are prettier, hers are just new. I wonder why her eyes aren’t blue like her parents’ eyes, was she adopted, did they skip a generation? 

I’m too busy thinking about eye genetics that I miss a part of Allison’s response, “But I agree with you on not being allies, there’ll be too many conflicts and we’ll eventually become attached to each other. I’m sure you’re probably thinking ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to kill you’ and frankly I feel the same way about you, but I wouldn’t stick around long enough to find out, the arena changes people, Stiles. And in a few weeks, I don’t think I’ll have the same viewpoint.” 

“I-I-I- don’t-“ but she doesn’t let me finish. She gets up and marches out of the room. “What the hell was that?” I ask Gloria. 

“It’s quite normal, to be sincere” she coos. “Tributes from the same district turn on each other quite often during alliances, don’t confuse yourself that she’s an automatic ally. All alliances must be broken, there can only be one winner”.

“Right well what else is there to do around here besides stuffing myself with caviar and hors d'oeuvres.”

“You can watch the other reapings if you’d like, see who you think is an easy picking and who you should avoid. Ta-Ta, love!” Before she leaves, she gives me a remote control and tells me what button to press. 

The TV came on, just as the first reapings were occurring. The tributes from District One were introduced and once I saw them flash across the screen I realize that Allison is and should not my main concern, I’m as good as dead. The first tribute from District One was a beautiful blonde girl with curly hair, named Erica. She had a smile that could mean array of things such as ‘I really like you’ to ‘you’re my next meal. A boy, tall and gangly gets reaped and is immediately replaced by a tall muscular teenager. 

Teenager didn’t even begin to cover it, this guy was massive and looked like he was in his mid twenties. He was walking up the stage shirtless so I could easy every detail of his body, his chiseled abs, his amazing muscular arms, the distinct tattoo on his back. If this were a contest where we would all survive and not die off one by one, I would ask him what his tattoo meant and possibly try to befriend him. The camera focused on his face, sharp nose, beautiful lips, eyes that were in the void between green and blue. His whole demeanor seemed animal, specifically wolf-like. Yet, he had this look where it seemed that he had gone through a lot of things, a scared puppy under the fake façade of a tough German Shepherd. 

His name was Derek.


	3. Chapter 3

I continue watching the rest of the reapings but I can’t remember all the tributes. I can only recall Derek’s and the female from his district, Erica. I remember Jackson from District Two, Issac from Four, Matt from Ten, and Allison’s. My reaping wasn’t as bad as I had anticipated. I looked shocked but I quickly covered it up and practically sauntered up the stage. The microphone didn’t detect the trembling in my voice, thank god. I rewind back to Derek’s reaping, where he volunteered.

“Cute, isn’t he?” 

I jump about 10 feet in the air, “Allison what the fuck, how long were you behind me, watching?” 

“Since the beginning, I’m good at stealth”

“So I’m guessing you saw the competition, what we’re up against?”

“Yeah”. She played with her curly brown hair, tossing it aside. “But muscle isn’t everything in a competition like this, you also need stealth, intellect, and cunning,”

“Well it seems to me that whoever has the sword can kill anyone with just muscle”

“Yeah but the games wouldn’t be fun if they were just a killing game. The best games are where they all must gather food, water, and make shelter. They must prove themselves winners”

“Well it looks like Miss. Argent has seen a good number of games”

“Well yeah” she stood up, “My father made me watch them since I was about 8 years old, in case I got reaped. Now, it’s time to see if it paid off”  
She started to walk away when I called out “Wait! Why did you ask me if I thought the tribute from District One was cute?”.

She smiled at me, but it wasn’t a cold or sad smile, it was almost sympathetic. “Because, everyone at our high school knows about you, except for your dimwitted best friend, Scott.” She skipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. Did she seem a little too happy to be here? Does she have a plan?

My ADHD made my mind switch topics completely. Everyone knew? How would everyone know when I wasn’t even being obvious about it or dating anyone? I thought I was doing a good job at hiding my homosexuality, not that it was a bad thing, but because I felt that it was unimportant to share with the rest of the world. Should I speak about it during the interview? Would it make me seem feminine and therefore weaker? No, that wouldn’t be the case, I’m pretty sure out of the female winners, and possibly even the males, someone had to have been feminine, maybe even gay. That itself wasn’t a predisposition to being weak or incapable of fighting. As for the Capitol, I’m sure they wouldn’t even give two hoots about it, I might even get gifts from gay sponsors. For being a bloodthirsty country that got its pleasure from seeing children fight to the death, we had a very progressive attitude. 

The next couple of days go by more quickly than expected. I guess everything goes by quickly when you know that you have an inevitable death within the next week. My stylist, a young redhead named Lydia, made me a nice outfit that would represent our coal mining district, for the chariot parade. It was a simple suit but it had small pockets that made coal dust fly out when going in fast paces. She made me promise not to run or the coal dust would all fall out and I would have none left for the parade. She also made me wear gray eye contacts to match up with the coal miner’s eyes, something that I found ironic since neither I nor Allison had grey eyes. Allison’s outfit was a nice little dress that showed too much skin but also had those mini pockets where coal dust would fly out. Who knows if we were a hit or not, all I could do was focus on not falling off the damn horse.

Our training came next, apparently Allison was good at archery, she seemed to hit the dummy every time. I made a mental note to keep my eyes open for any flying arrows in my direction. I of course, sucked at almost everything, but that wasn’t really a surprise. I was okay with a knife but I had terrible aim with them so if I had to fight someone I’d have to go hand to hand. I was pretty good at survival skills, because it consisted of common sense stuff like how to treat a wound or how to escape from a burning tree. I did learn how to make a fire and how to make net traps. There was a station where they put you in situations and you’d have to find a way to escape. I was really good at that. There was also a station that allowed me to identify any edible plants, thank God Scott was my best friend and I had paid attention to his mom when she was going over some treatments with Scott. 

I tried to go to all the stations to pick up any valuable skills but I quit after I ended up dropping my sword three times while I was training with the swordsman, and to make things worse the next person waiting was Derek, which means he saw me drop my sword three times. I tried to make eye contact with him but he stared right through me as if I weren’t even there. He almost killed the swordsman ten seconds in. His reflexes were amazingly fast, almost nonhuman, and he bared his teeth. My wolf-like comparison was one hundred percent accurate and seeing him act like it in person made him even more scary than just seeing him on the television. 

Our individual training came right after that and when it was my turn, I presented different scenarios and how I would escape from them or what steps I would take to reverse the situation in my favor. I also showed off a little bit of my knife skills even going as far as throwing one at a dummy which thankfully struck it in the neck even though I was aiming at the chest but they didn’t know that.

All of that was a few hours ago but it felt like only minutes. I sit eagerly in front of the TV waiting for them to announce my score. The first person to come up is Derek and he scores an 11, no surprise there. Erica scores an 11 as well. Jackson, scores a 10 and so does Morgana, the female tribute from District Two. Issac and his female counterpart named Violet score 10s and everyone else scores in the 5-7 range. When it finally comes down to me I can’t bare to see such a horrible score so I shut my eyes. I forget to shut down my ears too because I clearly hear the announcer’s voice when he says “Stiles Stilinski with a score of 9” 

“I GOT A 9 YOU GUYS! OH AND THE CAPITOL CHANGED MY FIRST NAME, I KNEW THEY WOULD!” Gloria, Lydia, Allison’s stylist, and even Allison were congratulating and giving me all the attention that we almost miss Allison’s score. She scores a 10, a fucking 10. 

All of the attention that I was receiving was immediately put on Allison. “Oh congratulations Allison!” shrieked Gloria, “you and Stiles have both scored incredibly high compared to previous tributes from District Twelve. I know it stills seems low compared to One, Two, and Four but trust me, you’ll be getting a lot of sponsors, I will personally make sure of that!” 

We thank her and the stylists as they all leave out of the room, probably sensing that me and Allison were about to discuss our scores. “Congratulations Allison, you probably just won the games”

“Oh don’t be silly, Stiles, if anything I’ll probably be one of the first ones to die.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, in previous games, when non-Career tributes score high, the Career pack eliminates them first in order to insure victory”

Having seen a couple games myself I knew that it wasn’t always the case, “but sometimes they’ve recruited those tributes if they prove to be valuable assets” 

“Yes but I don’t think we’re that valuable as allies”

“Oh fuck off Allison, you know you possess great value, your archery is a lot better than what you give yourself credit for. Do you see an Apollo or Artemis in that career alliance? No, you don’t. They’ll recruit you, don’t worry.”

“Well you only scored one number below me, and I don’t even know what your hidden talent is. I just saw you talking and visiting those pointless stations instead of doing anything physical and when I did see you doing something physical, you weren’t that good at it” 

“I don’t even see the point of this conversation, it’s like when you’re reading a book and there’s random dialogue that pertains nothing to the scene” I blurt out. “Let’s talk about what we really need to talk about. You seem to want to join the career pack but you’re making up excuses about not wanting to join, why?”

She stares at me, her brown eyes wide open. Her eyes tell it all, I was right. She sucks in her breath, “I do want to join them, but-“

“But you think I also want to join them, which will subsequently make us allies, am I right?” She nods her head, surprised that I had figured out her plan. “Look, I don’t want to join the career pack, there’s a lot of risk. They could kill me in my sleep, use me as bait for one of their activities. Plus there’s that Derek guy, I don’t trust him-“

“Oh cut the shit, Stiles. I know damn well that you don’t feel that way towards him. You may think that you’re a genius and that you’ve got me all figured out but you’re not the only one who’s figured things out. You obviously feel some form of attraction towards Derek. Under different circumstances I would tell you to go for it, I think you two make a pretty good pair, though I prefer you being with Scott to be honest. But this is The Hunger Games, Stiles, not some dating show. Derek is just a tribute, perhaps the most lethal one and he won’t hesitate to kill you. You think that through some miracle you’ll be able to change his killing mentality and that all of a sudden you two will become allies and win the Games together, even though there can only be one winner? And then what you'll move in together and have a family and live happily ever after, am I right? Oh, of course I am, because you would have interrupted me by now if I weren’t.” 

She gives me a look of pity, whirls around and marches away.


	4. Chapter 4

Allison wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t 100% right either. I don’t want to join the career pack, but I do want to join Derek and form an alliance with him. I don’t know where she got the idea that I want to pursue a romantic relationship with Derek, defy the ‘there can only be one winner’ rule, and live happily ever after with him, I barely know the guy and judging by how he ignored me, he probably doesn’t even see anything valuable in me anyway. I was like one of those loser kids trying to pursue the hot popular girl. 

And I’m not even sure why I want to be allies with Derek, but there’s something about him that draws me towards him. Everyone, I’m sure, sees him as the lethal animal, a killing machine, someone who should be feared, the inevitable winner of the games. But I see him as someone who has had to put on this false bravado in order to survive, like me. Underneath that over exaggerated bravery, behind that mask of aggression and anger, there’s a teenage boy who is scared for his life, knowing that he might not make it out alive. I still can’t even begin to fathom why he volunteered for that boy, and the meaning of his tattoo is a big mystery to me. Perhaps I just want to get to know him, befriend, and figure him out. Dammit, Allison was more right than I give her credit for, I can’t do that in the Hunger Games, it’s killed or be killed.   
***

I decide to consult my stylist, Lydia but my inquiry about making alliance about Derek quickly turned into a conversation about his abs, his muscles, his face, and his tattoo. Lydia was not amused, “Stiles! Please hold still, I cannot take your measurements if you keep fidgeting and talking your head off about this Derek guy!” she hissed. She had grown on me and I was going to miss having her being my stylist. I would ask for her number so we could hang out after the games but I remember that today might be my last day seeing her.

“Aww you love me, Lydia. Say, let’s take a break from deciding what I should wear for my interview and go out on the roof and shoot the breeze for a while.” I manage to escape from her and look back at her with a pleading look.

She contemplates for a second, and gives me an amused look, “ I don’t get attached to tributes that’ll soon be dead, but okay.”   
She grabs my hand, and drags me towards the elevator. As we’re going up she seems to be beaming. I have complete trust in her with my clothing options and perhaps one day I’ll see her being the CEO or whatever they’re called. But then I remember that in order to see her be the successful person that I said she would become, I’d have to win the games. 

The elevator drops us off at the roof and it’s quite the place. Words can’t even begin to describe it, it was possibly the best place in the entire country, so mesmerizing and tranquil. I walk towards the edge and notice some weird force below. “Hey do you know what that is?”

Lydia peers below, “it’s probably a force field to keep you guys from jumping or escaping, that was kind of a problem when the games first started.” She looks up at me, “so, where’s the enlightening conversation that you promised me? I’m risking a lot right now, my career, my life, my toes, these heels are killing me!”

“I-I didn’t think you would agree to coming up here with me so I didn’t have anything in mi-wait. Did you say you’re risking your life?”

“Well yeah. I’m pretty sure this goes against my job description. Not to mention that I’m allowing myself to become attached to a tribute.”

“You’re becoming attached?”

“I can't. I've gotten attached before and depression isn’t good for making clothes, trust me, I know.”

I was clearly making her uncomfortable so I changed the subject, “So you’ve been designing clothes for a long time, eh?”

“Yes, but it was more of a hobby than anything,” She talks about it like it's no big deal. 

"Lydia, you are one of the best stylists in this years’ games, some of these stylists put unnecessary shit on their tributes, they try to go all out and dress the tributes up like they themselves were members of the Capital and not some poor saps that will probably be dead in a week or two, they try to incorporate the District’s commodity into their work and fail. You, on the other hand, produce simple, yet elegant work that makes people do a second take because we’re different than everyone else. I’m not sure how close together you and Allison’s stylist work but you both dressed us like we were about to go to some important event instead of some freak show parade, even while showing off our coal mining district. 

You, Miss Lydia, have talent, no, you have a gift and I’m sure many people think you’re an underdog because you were assigned District Twelve, the underdog of the games, but I’m probably the only person who knows about your potential, I saw your sketches earlier today when you weren't looking and I know that once your show off your true potential, you’ll be designing costumes for District One and Two by the 50th Hunger Games and be the head of the whole industry by the 74th or 75th games.”

She looks a little stunned by my rant, but she recovers quickly, takes a deep breath, and whispers, “25th”.

Confused, I ask, “what?”

She puts stands up and says, “I’ll be designing for District 1 and 2 by the 20th games and I’ll be the one calling the shots and assigning stylists by the time the first Quarter Quell comes around.”

Her expression changes from proud and ecstatic, to serious and somber “I probably shouldn’t be telling you what I’m about to tell you, not because you can’t keep a secret but because there might be bugs in here, but the wind’s picking up! How convenient!” 

She clears her throat and continues, “ I was valedictorian in high school and I lead numerous things. In an ideal world I would have gone to an Ivy League school, possibly Princeton, Yale, or even a public Ivy League like UNC or UCLA. I was an aspiring mathematician who would have probably written an insane theorem that would have gotten me a field medal. But I live in The Capital so I would have ended up working for the Gamemakers in designing the arenas for each game and I did not want to partake in that. 

She quickly glances around, specifically towards the sky, as if she’s waiting for something. She seems a little worried so I ask, “are you okay? If you’re not comfortable telling me you don’t have to, you’ve given me enough insight-“

She cuts me off and continues her story, “Apart from leading numerous clubs such as Latin club, I also led a rebel group that consisted of some of the smartest students in The Capital that opposed the games. We would use our knowledge to climb the ranks and come up with a plan that would help us end the games once and for all. Our plan was to have members in all areas of Panem and have secret agents as Gamemakers and Peacekeepers. Once our plan was completely flawless, we would execute it and declare war on the president and on The Capital.”

She takes another pause, looks up towards the sky and counts to 10. I finally understand. She’s probably waiting for a hovercraft to take her and kill her for revealing her anarchist views. “Lydia, please don’t say anymore, it’s not safe!”

She shakes her head, tears forming in her green eyes, “No, I’ve kept this inside of me for so many years, it feels invigorating finally telling someone. Our secret group was infiltrated and at our last "meeting", there was a raid. Some of our members were killed but some were tortured into ratting out who the surviving members were. Thankfully I had prepared for this and I insisted on extreme secrecy within the group. No one knew names, faces, anything. We were strangers but we were a close-knit group working towards a single goal. 

I’m scared of asking her about what happened to her secret group but she sees the question in my eyes and continues, “ We lost some members. The members that were tortured had their tongues cut off for not revealing whom the rest of us were. The joke’s on the Capital, they could still participate in our group activities and serve as spies, some of these people saw what they did as a form of sacrifice, and now more than ever, they’re seeking retribution.”

“So the group is still around”

“All of this happened five years ago and yes, I’m still the leader. The Capital thinks we disbanded but we’re still recruiting some of the smartest high school scholars in the Capital, our numbers are slowly growing again. The surviving original members are now in entry level positions, as am I. I gave up being a mathematician and used my talents to directly help the tributes in any way I could. I don’t know what my plan is once I get to the top of the hierarchy but I know that I’ll have a lot more influence. Our original invasion plan was to declare war on the First Quarter Quell but now we might have to stall until the Second or Third Quarter Quell. Most of us probably won’t be around by the Third Quarter Quell but I know that we’ll have some highly ranked members in our group that will do everything in their power to avoid the games going on for an entire century. “

By now, she’s no longer crying or speaking in half sobs, she’s speaking with conviction. “Not that I don’t find this extremely interesting, I really do, but why are you telling me?” I asked.

“Earlier when you asked me to hang out on the roof, I was thinking of composing an email to the guy who’s a Co-leader in the group, more like vice president I guess. I was going to tell him that I was resigning my spot and that he would succeed me. I was thinking that maybe things weren’t moving in the right direction because of me. I was going to send it as soon as I was done being your stylist but you and your comments have suddenly inspired me. You’ve made me realize that I can and will make a difference, it just might take a little time. Do you have any friends back home, Stiles?

“No, not really. I hang out with this socially awkward teenager who’s currently failing two classes and has a misaligned jaw.”

“Well I hope he doesn’t take you for granted because anyone would be lucky to have their own personal Stiles.”

“So let me get this straight. You pretty much founded a group of nerds to overtake the Capital, got infiltrated, and now you’re still around, in hopes of overthrowing the Capital within the next fifty years.”

“Pretty much, yes”

“That is fucking amazing. Oh my God, I-I have so much respect for you, not that I didn’t have respect for you before, but for what you’re doing. That’s really noble of you. What’s your group called, you have to have a name, there’s no way a name for such an ass-kicking group to not have a name. And please don’t tell me it’s called National Honors Society of Anarchists or some generic crap like that.”

Lydia manages a smile, “ We don’t currently have a name in the works, and we had to ditch our original name, too many negative connotations are now associated with it. You’ve probably heard the old name of our group before. The Capital never lets us forget anything. They named the poor tortured souls that were captured after our group. And they continued to use that name on any person who had their tongue cut off for whatever crime they committed. We were known as The Avox.


	5. Chapter 5

Lydia and I go back down and pick out my outfit for the interview tomorrow, it’s a simple gray suit with gray slacks. I have the option of choosing a striped tie or a solid black one, and I choose the former. My choice seems to please Lydia so she dismisses me and I head on over to my room to catch up on some Z’s. 

As I enter my room I notice that I have company, an Avox. “Oh uh h-hi. Can I help you? No wait I’m sorry, don’t answer that, oh God, I’m so sorry.” I feel myself turning multiple shades of red as I try to think of a proper response. But the Avox manages to smile and leaves promptly. I wonder what that was about and why he was in my room when I notice that he had left a tray of food and a glass of milk. I ignore the food but I drink the milk. I love milk, and conveniently there was never enough of it in District Twelve.

That wasn’t true. Since my dad was mayor he could pretty much have whatever resources he wanted and we always had fresh milk. I invited Scott over one time and gave him a glass. He drank it in all of 5 seconds. He then told me that it was his first glass of milk in months, and proceeded to inform me that kids in the Seam never had enough milk, especially the younger ones. I wasted no time in gathering as much milk as I could and delivering it around the Seam with Scott’s help. We continued this ritual for about a month until one day I walked in on a Peacekeeper talking to my dad, well more like bellowing at my dad. I only managed to catch the last bit of the conversation but it was all I needed to hear, “If I find out your son and his coal miner friend are stealing supplies from the Capital, I will personally execute both on the spot and I will inform the president of your treason!”

Messaged received. The next day I told Scott that we would have to stop our operation because someone had told on us. Thinking that he’d be mad I didn’t want to look at him but that only lasted a total of 5 seconds because I had to know. Surprisingly, he had on the cute puppy dog smile and was staring intently at me. “You know you’re amazing, you risked your life to get those kids milk, they’ll probably have enough calcium for the rest of the year!” You’re a hero to them. And you’re my hero as well.” 

I tried so hard to bite down a smile, “Yeah well you’re also a hero, you risked your life as well”. 

“Well we have to lay low for a few days, so I guess we can’t see each other outside of school.

“Yeah that’s a good idea. Uh did you really mean that, Scott? That I’m a hero?”

He smiles at me and takes my hand into his, “of course”

Thinking about my dad and Scott makes me miss them. I hope they’re all helping each other cope, I can’t imagine either of them facing this alone.   
***

I try to listen closely to the interviews but I can only pay attention for a couple minutes before my mind begins to wander. I can’t seem to listen to Erica’s interview but she seems to be ready for anything that comes her way. I’ve never yelled at a girl before, much less hit her, so how am I supposed to kill one? Erica’s three minute interview mainly focuses on her honor and pride towards district one. She casually mentions her claws and how they’re definitely going to be an asset towards the games. The interviewer asks her if she was given shit for having some sort of advantage towards the other tributes but she said that she could keep the claws as long as they were under a certain length. 

“Yeah, they were about 3 and a half inches long but I’ve had to have them reduced to about 2 inches in length. I can still create chaos with them” she growls as she slashes towards the crowd, creating a great amount of cheering and screaming. 

Derek’s interview is next and I try to pay as much attention as possible. 

“So Derek, Hale”, swooned the interviewer, “you’re the 3rd person in your family to be a tribute”

“Yes, my sisters were both winners, Laura when she was 18 and Cora when she was 15. I’d like to keep up the tradition with winning. That’s partially why I volunteered as tribute for my district”

So he only wanted to volunteer because he wanted to look good for his district. He didn’t care about the poor kid who was reaped, he didn’t want to save his life because he was a compassionate and caring character. He only wanted to keep his family tradition of killing children going on. Why am I getting so worked up over Derek? I shouldn’t be surprised by his bloodthirst, he’s from district one, a district that is known to be just that. Why am I so disappointed in his response, did I really expect him to be a pacifist? 

The interviewer changed the subject, “So Derek, you’re a career and it seems like you have the physique and the attitude to be a leader, you’re like the alpha of the careers.” His voiced turned more sinister, “Are you willing to kill your betas?”

“Well as a matter of fact I have decided to take a different approach. I will not ally myself with the careers, I will be going solo for awhile”

This not only shocks the audience, evidenced by the collective gasps, but it also surprises the career pack. I turn around and the tributes all look shocked with the exception of the tribute from two, Jackson. He’s smiling menacingly.

“But Derek” mused the host, “you’d be in an unfavorable position, having no allies?”

“I never said I was going into this alone. I have a potential ally and when the time comes I will approach this person.” He may have elaborated some more but his time was up. 

I don’t really pay attention to the rest of the interviews, which is a bad idea. I recall some of the non careers, a boy named Boyd who seemed like he should be in the opposite of the hunger games, because he was unbelievably calm. I also remember a girl named Jennifer. I shouldn’t underestimate them, even at 5’11’’ I’m still one of the shortest tributes. Careers don’t always win but from the looks of the pool of tributes, it seems like a career victory is inevitable. 

Allison is up next, she’s dressed in a loose summer dress, she doesn’t look like she’s going to be in an arena ready to take down her opponent, she looks like she’s going for a stroll in the park. If she’s trying to conceal her archery skills, she’s succeeded. She talks about her failed passions like painting, photography, and poetry. She’s coming off as a sweet innocent harmless girl who had the misfortune of being reaped. I know better. 

I shun her out of my ears and think of what I’m going to say next. I think of ratting Allison out but that would probably not help me at all. Not only do I risk having Allison come after me first but I may also lose sponsorship’s for looking like a snitch. And me snitching probably wouldn’t sit too well with my fellow tributes.   
Before I know it, it’s my turn and I’m feeling nervous as fuck. My legs feel like jello as I approach the stage, the crowd is cheering me on but I know that it’s probably a forced response. I think of my best jokes and pickup lines as I take a seat next to the interviewer.


	6. Chapter 6

I stare into the crowd and my ADHD goes into overdrive. I see a woman with a metallic mask and a poofy blonde mane, I see a man with pink eyeliner with a corset on. I also notice a lot of people with distorted faces, for example a man whose lips are way too big to be natural. I also see another man with snake eyes. I’m too busy staring into the crowd that I miss the first question my interviewer asked me. 

“Stiles,” I yelped “The name is Stiles, Stiles Stilinski, district 12, Aries, single too” which causes a lot of the female (and male) audience members to scream out.

“Well, I was aware that we had such a charmer in our midst” says the interviewer.

“Oh hardly, I don’t even have a significant other back home” Except maybe Scott but I don’t bring that up

“So Stiles what’s your angle, you were one of the better tributes this year, you scored a 9 which is one point lower than what the tributes from 2 scored” 

“Easy there, trying to get me killed?” The crowd laughs but I’m serious, the last thing I need is for Jackson and Morgana to come after me because this interviewer thought it would be funny to make fun of them during my interview. “Funny that you mention the careers because I was actually thinking of taking up the career from One’s offer. I kid of course but wouldn’t that be epic?”

“It would! A tribute from 1 and 12 working together till the end and fighting to the death” The crowd roars in approval. 

“But in all seriousness, I feel confident enough to make it past the first couple of days. Remember, it isn’t about brawns, it’s also about brains.”

“Well you certainly have some of both, I wish you luck, Mr. Stilinski”

“Thank you, I appreciate it” I wave at the crowd and wink at them, which of course earns me even more applause. 

I see Allison, Lydia, and Gloria waiting for me, and they all congratulate me in their own way. Allison says I did a good job, Lydia comments about my appearance and says that the way I carried myself was almost flawless and Gloria says that it wasn’t the worst interview she’s seen. Great.

That night I had a nightmare about the arena. I dreamt that I was running through some woods being chased by a wild predatory beast, I couldn’t make out the animal, but it was probably a muttation, like the mockingjays. I hid behind a tree and prayed that the beast had given up on his chase. I no longer heard it’s roar but my luck ended when I heard a set of footsteps quickly approaching. Great, it’s Erica and Derek, ready to tear me into tiny pieces, I thought. 

“Stiles?”

I recognized that voice immediately, “Sc- Scott?” I leave my hiding place and expose myself and see Scott standing in the middle of the forest “Oh my god, Scott, how is this possible, why aren’t you back home in district twelve?”

He runs up to me and wraps his arms around me and says “Lydia, managed to infiltrate the gamemaker’s arena and sent me in to rescue you, we’re busting you out of here.” 

“Lydia and her rebel group actually managed to infiltrate the arena? That’s great, I’m sure she’s overjoyed, this is her big break, she’s literally making history by busting me out of here. Do you think she could bust more people out?” 

Scott let go of me, “So Lydia Martin and her rebel group are still active?”

“Yeah man, why are you asking me this, shouldn’t you know about her and the Avox group? They’re the ones that got you here.”

Scott’s warm brown eyes suddenly turned cold and he smiled a smile that I had never seen before, “Thank you for your statement, Stiles, Lydia Martin will be executed immediately for treason, we just needed confirmation. Did you get all of that?!” he shouted at a tree that was a couple feet behind from me. 

“No, that can’t be” I whispered. I looked at Scott and his eyes began to glow red, hair sprung out of his face, and his teeth turned into sharp doglike canines. He grabbed me by the neck and slammed me into a tree. 

“Sorry, Stiles” it growled “But Scott’s not here”, he raised his arm and there were a set of claws where his fingers should have been. He swiped down and slashed into my neck. 

I wake up in a cold sweat, breathing really hard, my entire body shaking. I count to ten and slowly try to regain my breathing. I haven’t had a panic attack in years, and today was not the day to start having them again. 

I get out of bed and make my way towards the dining room, hoping that Lydia was there so I could talk to her. 

As if an answer to my prayers, Lydia is in the kitchen, eating some fruit. “Oh there you are, well today’s the big day. Eat some breakfast, you need to be in a hovercraft in about 2 hours.” 

“I’m not really hungry”

“Stiles, after this meal you don’t really know when you’ll eat again” said Lydia. “You could be eating later tonight, you might eat in 2 days, you might starve to death. You do not have the luxury to decline any food right now.”

“Fine” I sigh as I grab a cinnamon bun from a tray. “I’m sorry, I’m just still trying to recover from a nightmare I had…it involved you”

“I’m sure that’s what every girl likes to hear”

“No no I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not sure if I can discuss it here, it’s kind of private.” 

Lydia squinted her eyes at me, “what do you mean private?”

“No no no! I didn’t mean private like that, I just meant that it’s probably best that I don’t speak of it out loud.” I made a gesture that looked like someone listening in, or at least tried to. I think she understood because she then gave me a nod. “Right well, Scott was in my dream too. He turned into some werewolf muttation and ripped my throat out. It felt very real.” 

“Stiles it was only a dream, right now you need to worry about what you’ll be facing in a couple of hours. From what I’ve gathered, the arena will feature 4 types of environments: desert, tundra, forest, and plains.”

“Is there anything else that you might know about the arena?”

Lydia was about to answer when a voice rang out behind us “Yeah, what else do you know, Lydia.”

We both turn around and see Allison standing by the doorway, with an amused smile. “I had no idea you had insider information. Does the Capital know about this?”

I turn and look at Lydia expecting her face to give everything away, but she’s surprisingly calm “Allison, you should take what I say with a grain of salt, these are just rumors that are spread in the stylist room. I also heard that the arena could be an island and that’s surrounded by water. Personally I’m not a fan of that rumor, what about the tributes who don’t know how to swim? Hope you’re both given a floatie.”

She turns to me, “let’s go catch the hovercraft.” She turns her head towards Allison, “Will you excuse us, sweetheart? Your stylist will show you to yours.” Lydia takes my hand and pushes past Allison.  
******************************************************************************************************************************************************  
“Um, what do you think you’re doing with that needle?”

The gamemaker ignores my questions and takes my arm. He plunges his needle into my vein and I almost faint on the spot but I try my hardest to stay lucid. If I fainted in front of all these tributes I could kiss my slim chances of winning away. 

The hovercraft lands and I go to my designated spot. Lydia is waiting for me. 

“Well this is it, oh and for the record those other rumors are total shit, I got my information from my contacts. Use it wisely.” She gives me a hug and we stay in that position until a voice buzzes that I have 10 seconds to get inside a chute. I step into the chute and it closes around me. I stare at Lydia and she has tears in her eyes, she blows me a kiss as the chute starts making its way up to the arena. 

At first I can’t see anything because it’s too bright, but my vision adjusts and I see that Lydia was right. There’s nothing but grass but after about a quarter mile radius, the grass turns into a different ecosystem. 

“28. 27. 26” a voice buzzes

In the distance I see snowy tundra but then gradually turns to desert. I look behind me and there’s a dense forest that also gradually turns into tall grass. Some of the tributes look around; others like Jackson and Derek stare straight ahead, tensed up and ready to charge. I make eye contact with Allison and she smirks at me. 

“15. 14. 13”

Of course in front of every tribute is an array of survival items, the most valuable ones in the center. What should I do? Should I try to grab the ones closest to me? The closest item is about 10 feet away and it’s a water bottle. I also see a set of knives about 50 feet away. 

“5. 4. 3”

I should grab the water and knives and run towards the desert, very few people would venture in, most would probably head for the plains and forest for concealment. 

“2.”

“1.”


End file.
